The Burden of Beauty
by SourCrumb
Summary: Cause I secretly really like Inquisitor makeover fics, but I can't write nice things, so have this instead.
1. Chapter 1

"A face for politics."

That was what Vivienne had said to him upon meeting their Inquisitor and now, after watching her swan about all night in silk and jewels, charming left and right, he understood what she meant.

Sure, he'd always known she was beautiful. They all did. How could you not? Everyone who met her commented upon it as soon as she was out of listening range. Still, in all that time it had just been idle knowledge at the back of his mind, shoved there after weeks of travel and camping, fighting and exploring. He'd seen her with her hair haphazardly pulled back, her face bare to the sun, usually dusted in dirt, not blush, and marked all over by bites, scratches and blows.

He knew she'd be done up for the soiree that night, but any and every expectation of his had been blown away.

Varric had assumed she would be wearing the same getup, or something similar, that she had worn to the infamous Orlais ball, but oh no. Maybe fashion had changed, or Ruffles had extra time with her seamstresses, because the simple pants and sash were long gone. Instead she had stood before them clad in something he would have described for a romantic heroine. He'd never seen her powdered and painted, her hair swirling down her back like a daydream he'd once had. Her standard attire and armor wasn't built for looks but for living, with lines that were always straight. They were made of ridged materials that could never have spilled off the curve of her hip the way that dress did.

She'd smiled at them all, but he hadn't missed the way that smile flickered when their eyes met.

As soon as he could find a chance to bolt, he took it.

She found him in the tavern, where he'd assumed she wouldn't go.

He was deep in his cups, struggling to deal with the fact that he couldn't get his Inquisitor's hips out of his mind. The last thing he needed was her to appear like a runaway princess in the doorway.

And yet, there she was.

She signaled the barkeep and sat down on the stool right next to Varric's. Her glass of mead was presented within seconds. Being Inquisitor had its perks.

For a long time, they sat there in silence. It wasn't until their glasses were empty and replenished that she began to speak without looking at him.

"You know I can tell the exact moment that someone decides I'm attractive to them. I can see the shift in their shoulders, watch the gleam come into their eyes... A lot of people clear their throats too. It usually happens within five minutes of meeting me, and that's generous. And once it happens, nothing is ever the same. Most of the words I say become more or less useless. Ears stop working. I become a something, not a someone. An object to be admired... or a challenge to be won... and I fucking hate it."

He tried to keep his breathing even, but his heart was racing. His fingers clutched tight around his pint glass and he considered draining it dry. Was he just as bad as the rest of them?

He had to admit, it was a lot easier to imagine her lips parting for him now that they were coloured to looked kiss-swollen and wine soaked.

She sighed. "You're thinking about it right now, aren't you?"

"Is that what you think you think has happened here?" Caught red-handed, he scrambled for an explanation."You think I see you all dolled up and on some pedestal and what? I'm going to suddenly turn you in a naked statue inside my brain instead of a living, breathing, impossible woman?"

He kept his eyes on the settling foam inside his glass, listening to her silence, a pause that made his heart forget how it worked.

"You didn't answer my question." She sounded very, very tired all of a sudden.

"...No. I know I didn't."

He heard the thud of thick glass against wood, and he winced. Nothing like being the reason a lady shotguns back her brew.

"You talk about how you're the storyteller who notices the little details. I can notice things too, you know. Especially when they're as obvious as a dragon crashing through the room. You haven't looked me in the face once since the beginning of this wretched night. You avoided my gaze the entire time we were dining with the diplomats and you left me to fend for myself at the reception. Not even here, not even during this... attempt at... at I don't know."

She drew a long, shaking breath.

"All I know is I that this afternoon when they were dressing me, all I could think was how you would look at me. I was worried you'd never look at me the same way again... but now I wonder if you'll ever look at me again at all?"


	2. Chapter 2

It took a full twenty-four hours before he had enough courage to knock on her door and address his abysmal behaviour. It was late, but he knew by the light in her window that she was still awake. When she opened it, she was dressed in a simple robe with her hair in a braid. Her face was clean of any make-up.

She was still the most exquisite creature he had ever laid eyes on.

"Varric?"

He swallowed. He knew once he opened his mouth that his cherished friendship with the Inquisitor would forever be destroyed. That was a given. There wouldn't be anymore cozy fireside chats, or secret in-jokes, or book recommendations. Those was history no matter what he did now. Knowing that made it seem slightly less unbearable.

"I need to talk to you about last night."

"How surprising. You had literally nothing to say on the subject last night."

"I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have let you leave like that, Inquisitor."

She raised a brow and leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms. "Back to using my title, are we?"

"I honestly don't know."

She regarded him in silence for a moment before she stepped back, gesturing inside. "Would you like to come in?"

His shoulders visibly relaxed. "Maker, yes."

He'd been in her room before, of course. He'd sat at her desk and helped her draft letters, and he'd sat on her bed while listening to her vent about all of the duties she suddenly had heaped onto her, half of which she had no idea how to handle. The room was full of little memories for him.

He hoped this wouldn't be the last one.

Varric took only a few steps in before he stopped in front of her. "I owe you an apology. That's the long and the short of it. If nothing else, I came to tell you I'm sorry." She was the one sitting on the edge of her bed and listening now. He'd never noticed how it brought her down to his eye level before. Meeting her eyes was hard enough, but holding that melancholy gaze was almost impossible. managed as he continued. "You were right. I hate admitting it, but you were right. I did look at you differently once I saw you all done up, but not for the reasons you gave me. Well, not all of them."

She was starting to look confused. "I don't think I understand what you mean."

Varric was at a loss for words, a feeling he hated more than anything else. He was floundering to find the right phrases that would help articulate the swoop in his stomach that seeing her always gave him, or the glow of pride when he managed to make her laugh so hard that her stomach hurt, or the flutter that started in his throat when she would push her hair back behind her ears, exposing the lobes he had once spent an entire evening trying to describe on paper.

"I don't know if I explain it properly." His voice was low with misery. "I don't want to fuck things up between us any more than I already have." There had been a book lying on the bed next to where she sat, and she now picked it up, leafing through it to keep her hands busy. She did that when she was agitated, fiddling with whatever happened to be closest to her at the moment. He always found it adorable. Now it just helped tie his stomach into further knots.

"I don't want you think things have changed between us."

"Bit too late for that," she said with a tired smile. "I tried so hard to believe you were different, but I always knew this would happen. I guess I was just fooling myself... Andraste's sake, this is why I didn't wear that stupid dress to Orleis!"

"Orleis? What stupid dress? What are you talking about?"

The Inquisitor had risen to her feet and she walked to her wardrobe. He watched her dig through the hanging garments inside to pull out something hidden deep in the back. When she turned back around, her arms were full of a glorious pile of glistening fabric.

His jaw hung, he knew it, but he didn't care. He had to gape at the shoulder-less gown she held up to herself. There were layers of tulle that lifted out the skirt, and the deep V in front would have shown more skin than even the silken number of the night before.

"You know, if you'd actually worn that dress, you could have ended up Empress yourself."

She laughed, and for one moment, everything was alright. She shook it out, her smile beautifully bittersweet as she held it to her body.

"Josie had it made weeks in advance, but... I just couldn't. I told her I needed my legs free for movement. She believed me, and maybe it was even half true... but the real reason I never wore this was because I knew I what would happen. I knew how I would look and what would have happened. I needed you there to keep me sane, and I needed you to keep seeing me just as I am. I had to hide it from you. I'm more that just a mannequin or a pretty face. I wanted us to keep being us, to not let anything change that."

"So you really didn't wear this just because of me?"

"Yes."

He was thunderstruck. "But why? Why deny so many people the pleasure of seeing such a vision?"

She suddenly looked horribly, horrible sad. "Because I'm not a vision, Varric! I'm a person! I'm real. I'm not a legend or a story or a prize. I'm just me. And nobody seems to see that anymore. Not even you." She sighed, her fingers tightening, wrinkling the dress even more. "I just wanted to delay it. I wanted to keep things between us like they are. I didn't want sex to get in the way of that. "

The word hit him like a ton of bricks."No, stop, stop, I can't do this. I can't let you think that I think of you that way,because I don't. I don't and I'm sorry I misspoke. Fuck, this is hard to explain, and to apologize because you're so deeply wrong but yeah, you're also more than a little right, but not in the way you think. Not at all. Shit, I'm messing this up, let me try again." He cleared his throat. "I do know that you're just a person. I have never, ever looked at you as a just a woman to bed, and trust me when I say it. I would remain by your side, dodging danger or delighting dignitaries, doing whatever we wanted until death did us part even if some horrible spell forever changed you to look like Tiny. No question. It's not the body, even if yes, of course you're beautiful, come on, we both know it. No, you're more than that to me. Always have been."

"Always?"

There was no horror in her voice. There was no anger, or panic, or displeasure. Instead she sounded almost, dare he say it, breathless? Were her lips curling up, just a little bit, especially there on the right?

"You think I was only going to notice you if you dolled yourself up and pranced in front of me? Inquisitor, I notice you all the time. I am always noticing you. I can't help noticing you, never could! No matter what you're wearing or doing or not doing, Maker's breath, it never matters. It has never mattered.

You make me laugh at the bullshit you get away with it in exchange for a toothy smile. I admire the way you ignore the advances of fools who think they could hold your attention. I worry when I watch you navigate those you cannot, those who persist. Don't know why I do. I know you'll just smash them into the floor before they'd have the chance to touch a hair on your head, but I can't stop it."

She made a sound that he would have described in a novel as 'something betwixt a laugh and a sob.' "You worry about me?"

He glanced up at her face, emboldened by the softness of her voice. She was looking at him with an expression of, dare he even suggest it... wonderment? Bewilderment, for certain. He felt his cheeks grow hotter as their eyes met. His composure was faltering. "I know, it's stupid. I'm sorry, I know you can take care of yourself. Maker's breath, I've watched you kill a fucking dragon! No, some asshole in a tavern is hardly going to be the one to end you but, I dunno. I still worry, and I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok. I... I like that you worry." Her cheeks were bright, and that sweet smile of her was making his head spin. It was like a secret shared just between the two of them.

Varric realized he was very close to something very wonderful.


End file.
